Emily's fury reached its peak after her encounter with Cable. Finding him alone in the corridor, she confronted him, her voice trembling with anger. "Cable! Have you lost your mind? Sofia is a butler, and you are a Prince! Do you have any idea of the scandal this would cause? What about Mother and Father?"
Cable looked at her with cold, unwavering eyes. "Emily, know your place. What you think you saw might just be your misunderstanding. Regardless, my life is my own. I don't need my younger sister questioning my heart. Now, leave me!"
His dismissal stung. Feeling lost, Emily hurried to the chambers of her sister-in-law, Victoria, Crown Prince Liam's wife.
Victoria was quietly reading when Emily burst in, tears of frustration in her eyes. "Emily? What on earth has happened?" Victoria asked gently.
Emily poured out the entire story—the moment in the garden, Cable's defensive attitude, and her fears about Sofia. Emily paced the room, "Victoria, we have to send her away! She's distracting him, leading him astray."
Victoria closed her book and pulled Emily down to sit beside her. "Calm yourself, little sister. Listen to me. Love isn't something that follows the rules of rank and title. Have you seen Cable lately? There is a light in his eyes that wasn't there before. He is happy."
Victoria continued, her voice wise and soothing, "If we force her out, we don't just lose a butler; we lose Cable's heart. He will resent us forever. Sofia is efficient, brave, and loyal. Is she not more worthy than a cold-hearted noblewoman who only wants his crown? Sometimes, Emily, we must look past the tradition to see the soul."
Emily softened, the logic of Victoria's words sinking in. "But... we must know the truth," Emily whispered.
Together, they summoned Sofia. When the butler entered the room, she was visibly trembling, sensing the weight of the moment.
Victoria spoke directly. "Sofia, we know about you and Cable. We aren't here to punish you, but we need to know—is this love? Or are you playing a game with a Prince's heart?"
Sofia stood frozen. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Tears welled up in her striking eyes, and she lowered her head, her breath hitching. She couldn't find the words to explain the depth of what she felt for Cable—it was too vast, too overwhelming.
Seeing her genuine distress and the silent devotion in her eyes, Emily's anger vanished, replaced by a deep empathy. Victoria looked at Emily and smiled knowingly.
Emily stepped forward and placed a hand on Sofia's arm. "It's alright, Sofia. You don't have to say a word. Your silence and your tears have told us everything we need to know."
Victoria added, "We accept this, Sofia. We will support you. But know this—the path ahead is difficult. You must be strong enough to stand by him when the world tries to pull you apart."
Sofia looked up, her face wet with tears but glowing with relief. She had found allies where she least expected them.
Meanwhile in Calorina
Princess Arya stood by the window of her chambers, her gaze lost in the bleeding colors of the sunset. Her mind, however, was anchored in the secret whispers and stolen glances she shared with Ethan. The memories were a fragile comfort, broken suddenly by a soft, rhythmic knock at her door.
"Enter," Arya said, her voice strained.
Her lady-in-waiting curtsied low. "My lady, His Highness requests your presence in his study immediately."
The words hit Arya like a physical blow. A summons to the King's study was never a casual affair. A cold shiver raced down her spine as she wondered if the sanctuary of her secret had finally been breached.
She smoothed her silk gown, composed her features into a mask of regal calm, and followed the servant through the silent corridors.
The atmosphere inside the study was stifling. Duke Breloff sat behind his massive oak desk, the flickering candlelight casting long, ominous shadows. Arya curtsied gracefully. "Father, you summoned me?"
The Duke nodded solemnly, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. "Please, Arya, be seated. We have a matter of the utmost gravity to discuss."
Arya sat, her hands folded tightly in her lap to hide their trembling. "Yes, Father. I am attentive. Pray tell, what seems to trouble you so?"
The Duke's face was like flint. He stared directly into her eyes and began, "Arya, I walked through the east wing passage earlier today... and I witnessed something that gave me significant pause."
Arya's heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her voice steady. "Whatever could that have been, Father?"
The Duke steepled his fingers, his eyes narrowing to slits as he studied her. "Arya, do not play coy. I have known you since the day you drew your first breath. Your expression betrays you; you know exactly what I am referring to."
Arya maintained her serene mask, though her mind was a whirlwind of panic. "Father, truly... I am perplexed. What could you have seen that has disturbed your peace so?"
The Duke leaned forward, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "I saw you, Arya... in an intimacy with Ethan, the palace guard, that transcends duty. Tell me, daughter... what is the nature of your relationship with this man?"
The silence in the room was deafening. Arya took a deep breath, realizing that the time for shadows was over. Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it held a firm resolve. "Father... Ethan and I... we have developed feelings for one another. True, romantic feelings."
The Duke remained unnervingly still, though Arya could sense the storm brewing beneath the surface. He leaned back. "Arya, my child... I had suspected this. Ethan is an honorable man, perhaps, but he is a guard—far beneath your station, your blood, and your future."
Arya's hands flew from her lap, reaching toward him in a desperate plea. "Father, please... do not judge him by a title. Ethan's heart is more noble than any lord I have met. His character is impeccable. I love him."
For a fleeting second, the Duke's eyes softened at the sight of her tears, but then they darkened with an intense, cold fury. His face clouded over, and his displeasure turned into raw anger.
"Enough, Arya!" he roared. "Your foolish infatuation with a lowly guard is appalling! It is an insult to your lineage!"
Arya recoiled, startled by the sheer violence of his outburst. The Duke slammed his fist onto the heavy desk, the sound echoing like a thunderclap through the room.
"Leave! Now!" he commanded, his voice trembling with rage. "We will not speak another word of this until you have regained your senses and remember who you are."
Tears spilled over as Arya turned to obey. She felt a jagged hole in her heart, a mixture of devastating hurt and a new, fierce defiance that she had never known before.